


stolen valor (together gone away)

by discombobulation



Series: save the world (a universe at a time) [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Klaus Hargreeves, Gen, Good Sister Allison Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Not Beta Read, Past Drug Addiction, Phones Exist AU, Pogo and Grace were also abused and you can fight me, Pre-Apocalypse, Pre-Canon, Prequel, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sibling Bonding, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-03-08 22:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18903574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discombobulation/pseuds/discombobulation
Summary: she held her hand out to him, eyes pleading. scratches and bites and bruises adorned his sweaty skin, pallid from the forced withdrawal. the worst was the weeping wound that snaked down his face to his throat, gauze hanging limp in his hand."come with me," she said. you're going to die here, I can't lose you, she couldn't say. it didn't matter; he took her hand, the other coming to press the gauze back on his wound, and they disappeared into the night.-or, where Klaus's powers lash out after a forced week-long mausoleum visit, and Allison can't lose another brother.





	stolen valor (together gone away)

Life for Three is simple: rumor who you're supposed to rumor, listen to One, and protect yourself. She's only eight, just as the rest of them, but she's also favored more by their father and One. But that favoritism held little merit against any mistakes, and she's the only  ~~worthwhile~~ girl that participates in training, so her punishments are more strenuous if she can't keep up with Two, or Five.

(She envied Four and Six, who always seemed to be unbothered by the extra exercise and training they're forced into. Stuck at the hip, the loud one and the quiet one, bonded together through mutual distaste for violence, distaste of their powers and father and it makes her hear hurt because she's only close with One, who would choose Father over her any day, but she shoved that back into the box where it belongs.

She held no such stipulations about what they're meant to do; she mattered more, and since she's placed higher, she must be the best, or at least _better_. Even if it means she had to whisper even quieter with One after she made a mistake, if she had to bandage her knuckles a little tighter because Father hit her hands with his cane after she failed to beat Five in a fight, the slippery boy expertly using his powers in ways that she can't. She couldn't afford to act the way Four and Six do, all uncaring and sweet and soft.

~~She could, but it took years to realize that~~.)

Although she doesn't understand Four or Six, she liked Four. He was loud, but in a way that distracted her if One got snappy over one of Father's orders, if she said something that he didn't agree with and would storm away with a look that reminded her too much of the old man. She didn't mind the touching from Four, either. It felt less like he wanted something, so different from One's, and more like it would be wrong if he wasn't trying to invade everyone's space. So she let's him hug her or hold her hand as he babbled or ranted, and he would listen as she explained how to take care of her hair, how to braid it, and learned painstakingly so, for once, she didn't have to do it herself. And if she noticed how he would flinch at nothing, or sometimes talk to something that wasn't there, then she wouldn't say anything, offer him the comfort that he was so deprived of, outside of Six.

(She never understood Four's powers, why he's there with them, why he's higher than Five or Six. One, Two, Five, Six, and herself all make sense; their powers make them better. But seeing ghosts? She never understood her father's reasoning beyond that some power is better than no power.

~~Just look at Seven.~~

But she also overheard Pogo and father talking, once, about Four. About what his powers could actually be, what he would be able to do if he harnessed his fear and turned that weakness into a strength. Some words flew over her head, but the conclusion she came to was fairly simple; Four could be much stronger, much more than what he was now, and it was only a matter of time before his _real_ potential is realized.

Soon, she would hate any thought of what Four's potential could be.)

Not to mention, she thought he was an amazing singer, especially those lullabies that he said he knew by heart, sung in a language she doesn't care to learn, comfort transcending the barrier. He was soft, sensitive in way that none of them were, a way that none of them could be. And so if she protected him against One, calling Four her little brother, her responsibility, well. It would be something that remained known but unspoken. And since she claimed Four as hers, then she also protected sweet, stubborn Six; the boy who could seemingly communicate with Four with his eyes, and who stood against Father in ways that she can't ( _ ~~won't~~_ ) appreciate until he's ( ~~ _dead_~~ ) older. So she would guard them from the worst of One's lectures, of Father's scowls and disappointment, and they would reel her back into the real moment with a well-placed joke, an impromptu fashion show or sleepover, and all would be well, and the bruises and pain and tears would remain implicit, and they would heal each other with little fanfare and leave the hurt be, focused on the love they could offer each other.

None of them enjoyed pity, so it was never offered. They would protect each other, and let it remain unsaid. They would continue to live and offer silent comfort, and that would be enough for them, because what else would they do? Cry openly, weaknesses exposed for their siblings and father to poke at and mock until they're removed?

She refused to suffer the same way that Four and Six let themselves, so she took all that weakness and buried it deep within her, and shouldered their combined pain, which seemed lighter than hers for reasons she could never guess.

-

That's a lie. She may only be eight, but she knew why their shared pain was lighter than her lonely pain. She knew the reason, but she would never say it aloud.

That would be admitting defeat. 

-

Then they were ten, and she wasn't just Three anymore, she's also Allison, she has a name that isn't just a number, and so does everyone (bar temperamental little Five, who they probably would still call Five even if he wanted a normal name) else, and she finally felt like she had her own identity, her own idea of who she was as a person. She took the name, making it her own, guarding herself jealously. Luther and Diego's name screamed strength, power that they held as One and Two; Vanya, for being so ordinary, had a soft, name that Allison fought to not feel envious of; Ben's name was just as gentle as Six himself, and brought a smile to her face when she saw his happiness.

Klaus's name, though. It's both strong and soft, held power similar to Luther but the gentleness of Vanya's and Ben's. It dances across her tongue and held her attention and encompassed all the passion that she associates with her dear Four.

She painted both their nails in celebration, hers a deep purple and Klaus's a soft pink, Ben reading in the corner of her room as they gossiped. Allison even deigned to let Vanya join, teaching Klaus to paint nails with a navy on hers that complimented her sister's pale skin. She eyed his work appreciatively, patting his head in approval.

"Good job," she said, nodding, sweeping blush across the tops of Vanya's cheeks. "You're better at this than Vanya is."

At this, Vanya wilted, folding into herself and her face twisted. Allison tilted her head, confused and slightly irritated. She didn't understand her sister. "Why are you upset? He's actually practicing, which you don't. And be careful, I don't want to mess up your face." Klaus made a face and Ben sighed at her, shaking his head when she looked up at him. She blinked, still not understanding why her siblings are acting like she said something stupid, something cruel. She's not _Luther_ ; she usually is much better at understanding her siblings. She usually knew what mines to avoid, but she doesn't quite understand this battle.

"You're right," Vanya said, small and quiet, surprising her by speaking up. "Can I practice with you, then?"

Allison nodded. "I like Klaus, but I suppose I wouldn't mind spending time with an actual girl." Vanya beamed at her, and suddenly she didn't feel so lost anymore. She looked back up at Klaus, perching on her bed and silent before this, and sees him smiling at her, softly, green eyes proud and gleaming. She smiled back, and went back to applying makeup on Vanya's face.

She's not Luther, but she still had work to go to actually understand her siblings.

Suddenly, Klaus threw his arms up in the air and fell backwards onto her bed. He was pouting, eyes mischievous. "Why are my nails so boring?" He complained, flicking his hand. "Could you redo them to be brighter?"

"Father won't like it," she reminded, rolling her eyes. "But whatever. Choose a color and Vanya can do it."

The other girl perked up, eyes wide. "Really?"

"How else are you going to practice?"

"Alli, Alli, Alli, you're my queen!" Klaus interrupted, eyeing her polish collection with an appraising look, chewing his lip as he thought. "I want that bright red one." He pointed at one of her newest bottles, and as he did, his hands glowed blue, the bottle flying at him and hitting him in the stomach.

Everyone in the room froze, glancing up at the camera in the corner. Klaus's face was paling, fear pulsing in his eyes, and Ben seemed more and more protective as they all stared at the door.

It opened, and in came their father. "Come along, Number Four."

-

She regretted allowing her brother to go with that man, and she would until she died.

But she was a child, and children trust in their caretakers and parents. She knew that Klaus wasn't their father's favorite, but they ~~couldn't~~ didn't believe that he would hurt Klaus on purpose. He never did, usually, unless they all disappointed him. So, how could she take responsibility, if she was just a kid that didn't know any better?

-

Klaus came back days later, pale, skinny, shaking, and his jaw wired shut. Their father said that he hurt himself while they were working on his new power.

He came back different, but he could pull things, even _people_ , around, hands and eyes blue, shoeless as they practiced fighting hand-to-hand. Suddenly Diego and Five were looking at Klaus, complimenting and appreciating his abilities, seeing him, and almost making her scream in jealousy as they suddenly started caring once he became more useful.

( _'He was mine first!_ ' She never said. _'You've never cared for him before! He's mine and Ben's! You were never there for his tears, so why do you think you get to be there now? Now that he's useful and strong, in ways that you think matter?')_

Luther was their only constant; even though dad stopped calling Klaus a disappointment, Luther believed it was his duty to make sure that Klaus knew his place. She wondered if his behavior was _his_ own jealousy talking. His reaction to her becoming possessive and openly fond of Klaus, making a point of training with and talking to and loving just as loudly as the other did. She couldn't bring herself to care about any point Luther was trying to make; she now had a job to Klaus and Ben and Vanya now. They were the lower numbers, and they were officially hers, even if she also had to deal with Five since apparently he and Vanya were close.

So. She became his voice for the two months his jaw was wired shut, as well as his protector and ally, alongside Ben and Vanya and a reluctant Five and curious Diego. The others weren't as close as Three, Four, and Six, but she found herself supporting Diego more, bringing up Vanya's skill with her violin and making them notice her, curbing Five's barbs while also being a willing sounding board for his crazier equations regarding his powers and the world in general.

She would almost say it was one-sided, but that would be a lie.

Klaus and Ben began bringing her gifts, books and playwrights that they thought she would love, giving her an ear to listen to as she dreamed about becoming famous and acting in Hollywood, living up to her name. Diego began supporting her against Luther, as well, defending her from callous barbs that both Spaceboy and the press tended to make about girls like her, and drawing attention away from Klaus or Ben when One was in a particularly snarly mood. Five began teaching Klaus chemistry and biology, the medium soaking up the knowledge better than any of them. He began discussing conspiracies and physics with Ben, all three of them getting snared into the scientific possibilities of ghosts and Eldritch monsters actually being things of their universe or just interlopers, equations scrawled on Five's walls as they slept on top of each other, or the smell of incense in Klaus's room as he tried to focus on proving ghosts true to an incredulous Five. Vanya opened up out of her shell, and used her position to get the worst of the training off of their shoulders, lying to their father about the negative consequences certain trainings have on their abilities.

(She remembers her Ben weeping as he hugged and thanked meek little Seven over and over again, Klaus a steady presence behind her as they cradled her like a precious heirloom, all three clutching each other as if they might disappear if they let go.)

She smiled fondly at her family, and knew they would be strong together, forever, and maybe that together would finally include Luther once he stopped trying to hurt the rest of them just because he doesn't believe them when they told him that they were happier as companions rather than rivals.

-

Then, they got their tattoos, were exposed to the world, and Five disappeared, and she was barely floating in the ocean that their little pool had become. She knew that she was being negligent of Klaus, Ben, and Vanya, the two becoming wilder and more torn apart from the loss of Five, only held afloat by a floundering and equally miserable Ben. She couldn't bring herself to care, as much as it hurt. She had lost one of her own, and it felt like she lost a limb, and it felt like her life was closing in on her.

( ~~ _He never got the chance to tell them the name he had finally chosen for himself_~~.)

Diego stopped bothering with them, becoming more and more angry with Luther and father, his stutter the worst it ever was. He still favored Klaus and protected him, but there was a loss of warmth that they used to find with him before. _(Before, before, before, she should've done so many things different before he was gone_.)

Vanya was more like a ghost than she ever was, which was saying something. Of course, she and Klaus were attached at the hip, but where Klaus grew louder and rebellious, she became more silent and withdrawn. She spent more time in her room than with Allison, but maybe that was just Allison and her newfound reluctance to be with her siblings, looking at them and only seeing her guilt clouding their faces and turning them into twisted caricatures of themselves.

Klaus became even skinnier, eyes wide and tired as their father started focusing more on him, on the mistake. She's around enough to nip his spiral into drugs into only alcohol and weed, but she knew that she wasn't going to be able to completely stop him until they're out of their father's hands. He had mostly stopped eating, and his attendance to meals became spotty as their father trained him more and more. He flinched more and whispered more to things that she couldn't see and sometimes being near him was unbearable because she couldn't help him.

She knew that he was wasting away in front of her, but she couldn't help him, so she wouldn't go near him. Not after failing Five. So she fell into Luther, caught up in the attention that is so different from what her other siblings gave her. She knew she became crueler, sharper for it, siding with One more than them. She just wanted to feel _better_ , and Luther gave her that.

(She ignored the feeling that said Klaus's gentle, brotherly hugs felt much better than Luther's clumsy hands and whispered nothings. That listening to Ben and Vanya discuss books while Klaus painted her nails was better than sneaking to the greenhouse with Luther and laying together.

She ignored the pain in her heart when Luther would come too close.)

-

Her avoidance turned into neglect that nearly destroyed their family.

-

Ben was dead, Vanya and Diego were gone, and Allison was getting ready to leave. They're only seventeen, and their family was already ripped apart. She knew she should stay for Klaus, but she hasn't really looked at him since Ben's death ( _ripped apart by his own power, in a situation that seemed too unknown to be anything but suspicious_ ). The only reason she hasn't left is because Reginald took him the day she was going to say goodbye, and that was almost a week ago.

Concern tasted like ash on her tongue after everything they've been through.

She startled as she heard crashing from the foyer, jumping from her seat in the living room as she cautiously moved towards where she heard talking and something being dragged. She peaked through the doorway, and screamed.

Klaus was hanging, limp, in Reginald's hand as the man held him from underneath his arm. Blood was dripping from a jagged cut on Klaus's face that trailed all down from his cheek to across his throat. His eyes were painfully blank and glossy, sweat adorning his forehead. Blood was splattered all across his body, and his clothes torn. Not in the tasteful way he liked to wear, but like someone was ripping at them in attempt to hurt him. He was near skeletal, bones visibly jutting in sharp angles away from his body and his skin was pallid, almost like he was joining the dead already. The only thing that prevented her from breaking into sobs was the assurance of his chest weakly rising up and down in stuttering little breaths.

Distantly, her body frozen, she absently wondered when the ghosts became cruel. She remembered a time when he would be gleeful about what they had taught him, be it languages or tidbits of knowledge that come from existing during a time period or actually being there. They never used to be so violent with him, and he never used to be so scared and trying to rid himself of them.

She watched, removed, as Reginald barked something at her as Luther's pounding steps came down, likely drawn by her scream. She watched as her brother marched to the man, before pausing at the sight of their little brother. It seemed like his hesitation took what was left of Reginald's patience, as the old man snapped at Luther, his voice warbling like it was underwater. Maybe that was just her. Luther nodded and reached forward, taking Klaus into his arms with none of the gentle touch that he deserved, turning towards the infirmary where Mom and Pogo likely were waiting for them. Reginald stalked after Luther, face tight in what could be disapproval, but she knew from experience that it was more likely appraisal. Bile rose up in her throat.

She had no clue what happened to her sweet brother, but it was obvious to her that Reginald was behind it.

She would be lying if she said that she was willing to leave without Klaus, or at least try and get him to come with her. She failed all her other siblings, and it would be like declaring herself incompetent if she couldn't take care of the one that started it all. But it felt more disappointing that she was trying to leave at all, instead of stay and try and get their supposed father to love her.

But she wasn't Luther, and she wasn't that naïve. And she knew that if she stayed, it would be her grave like it was Ben's. And if Klaus hadn't come home hurt, she knew she would have left with only soft words and no offers for him to come with her.

She fell to the floor, tears running down her face, and she bent over. Knees to her face, arms wrapped around herself.

In her worry to not let this mansion be her grave, she was sending her brother to his gallows. She was going to leave him to hang and wouldn't have thought any more about it rather than a passing thought of grief and regret for leaving him alone, like that wouldn't be condemning her brother to a fate that he was innocent of. And she would've been glad to start over, she knew. Glad to shed the coat of the Umbrella Academy once she could use her name rather than her home to get a role, to get a feature. She would've been glad about letting her brother to his death, and he would never know why.

Has guilt always tasted like ash?

-

She sat at the infirmary bedside, clutching Klaus's hand to her own, and wondered when did he become more dead than alive. His hand was bony and thin in her own, and she saw Grace's expression tighten when she read the weight recorded on his file. She had refused to move, even when Luther came and made sad eyes at her. She couldn't help but yell at him, tears in her eyes as she realized that no one was coming for Klaus but her, that no one cared for him but her.

("Come on Allison," he had said. "The junkie probably got into a fight and dad had to help him. You've never been this upset over him before. He'll just wake up and run off again."

"Don't call him that," she snapped, eyes watering as she moved her eyes to Luther. "And don't come in here again. I don't want to talk to you anymore, just leave me alone. He deserves to wake up to someone caring about him, which you obviously don't."

"He's my brother too, Allison, but-" Luther said, but she interrupted.

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence, don't make me rumor you to leave us the _hell alone_.")

And so One had left, leaving her in the cold, white room that stank of antiseptic, listening to the rattling breaths her precious brother was forcing through his chest, and swore that she wouldn't fail the only sibling she had left. And as her eyes traced the bandage wrapped around his throat, the stitches trailing from his left eyebrow to those bandages, she wondered if she already had.

She only hoped he would give her a second chance. To try again, and to be better. To be there and support him the way he deserved, and finally cut his reliance on weed and alcohol to even get through a day, to even exist.

She startled from her thoughts as Grace walked in, a frown marring her perfect features. "Ah, my Allison. You missed dinner, do you want me to bring you something?" She asked, frown transforming into a comforting smile as she began checking on Klaus's vitals.

"I... that would be nice mom," Allison said. "Mom, can... are Klaus's wounds serious?"

"Well dear, he suffered small lacerations all over his body, the deepest being this nasty little cut." She gently trailed her hand down Klaus's face, a soft look in her eyes. "I won't know until he's awake, but his larynx was damaged, so he could have lost his voice or suffer from breathing problems for the rest of his life. Swallowing would also likely be difficult for him if the damage is serious, but there are plenty surgical options we have for his breathing and swallowing, though if his voice is lost it would be much more difficult. But our little bee is a fighter, he'll be fine." She patted Klaus's head, running a hand through his sweaty curls before coming around and giving Allison a quick hug. "Don't worry yourself too much over him. He wouldn't want you to suffer because of him, sweetie. Now, I'll bring you up some food and a blanket."

All Allison did was nod, holding back her tears as she held Klaus's hand to her face. Only once she heard the door close softly, she allowed the tears to trail down her face. Her shoulders shook and her breath hitched, but she refused to scream, yell, whimper like she wanted to. She needed to be strong, and that strength needed to be for Klaus, not for her.

She refused to accept any more failure.

-

Working with Klaus, teaching and learning ASL alongside him, struggling and falling and finally becoming close like they were was satisfying, even with it being tinged with grief. He still couldn't speak, but breathing and eating didn't hurt as much anymore. Which, according to Pogo, was a relief considering the damage.

("How did it happen? Who did it to you?" She asked, handing him the pad and pen that was laying next to her. ASL came easy to Klaus, but they were still learning, and complex signs were far out of both their reaches.

_'My powers lashed out. A ghost attacked me with, and grabbed a rock. I tried to fight back but he was angry and big. Don't let me go back_.' She frowned at that.

"Go back where?"

_'Mausoleum. Ghosts there are angry and cruel, not real humans anymore_.')

She looked at the scar that was still prominent on her brother's pale skin, bright and often an angry red. He's taken up wearing more conservative tops to try and hide his neck, but still remain just as fluid as before, finding a new love in shorts and skirts that came up just a little too short, sultry and free.

As she packed her bag, their nineteenth birthday long passed and snow settling onto the ground and frost in the air, she swore, solemn and only a little heartbroken, that she was going to buy him as many skirts and shorts that she could afford, all luxury brands and so soft, swaddling him in efforts to get rid of the memory of the mausoleum, of Reginald and everything he did to Klaus. The thought of her sweet brother being stuck there with Reginald, all alone, haunted her, and she knew it would for her life.

(Clothes would only help a little, she knew, but the little things always mattered the most with Klaus.)

She sighed and hoisted the duffle over her shoulder, tiptoeing to Klaus's room, where he was signing wildly at a corner tinged in shimmering blue before pulling something that might've resembled a shirt out of his own bag, then replacing it with an equally garish and tacky shirt. A smile tugged at her lips, the gesture reminiscent of when they were children leaving for missions far away, from both home and Reginald.

"Hey," she said quietly, snorting at Klaus's jump. He flipped her off as she walked into the room, settling on the mess of the bed. "Are you ready yet?"

He nodded, zipping up the bag and walking to his wardrobe, ripping out a plank before pulling out money, handing it to her. She counted it, nodding before separating it, putting the most in her bag, a little in her coat, and a little in Klaus's coat. He couldn't smoke, drink, or pop pills anymore, them tearing at damaged and scarred tissue in ways that left him permanently sober. Still, they both agreed to her being in charge of cash to prevent any temptation and further injury. They've worked hard to try and get Klaus to be able to talk, and they were close to getting him to whisper. He would never be vocally loud ever again, but they both knew that Klaus didn't need words to be loud. Words were just what he used to protect himself from the ghosts, and they worked hard to try and give him that comfort once more.

She took a breath. "Well, we're doing this. You ready, brother o' mine?"

"Born ready, baby," he signed, winking as he grabbed his bag. Together, they snuck downstairs, quietly reliving memories and anticipating their future. It would be hard, but she had gotten plane tickets to LA in her purse, and they had enough cash for a cheap apartment that she could negotiate for cheaper depending on its state. They were determined to strike it on their own, even if it meant giving up luxuries that they were used to for a while.

As long as they got away.

A shadow came from the living room into the foyer and she bit back a curse, stopping and putting a hand out for Klaus to stop, blue light ready to try catch him if he tripped. The shadow grew larger, and soon Pogo was in front of them.

"Miss Allison, Master Klaus," he said softly, eyes unreadable. "I see you both have decided to take your leave."

"Yes," she replied, fiercely and sadly. "Please don't try and stop us, Pogo." The old ape merely shook his head, hands coming out from behind him in offering. There laid two phones, and a black credit card.

"Take these," Pogo said, "as my peace offering. The black card is an emergency card, encrypted and untraceable to anyone but me. The phones are unlisted as well, and have your brothers' and sister's numbers, as well as the house's phone, already programmed, and the fees are charged to Master Hargreeves. I have been complicit in your abuse due to my own fear, so this is all I can offer you. I can arrange an apartment and stipend for you until you get on your feet as well. I am an adult and should have protected you children, but I couldn't out of fear of my own situation. Please, I just wish to try and help."

She paused, unsure. She wasn't expecting this peace offering from Pogo, who she loved and also felt betrayed by. "Would Reginald know where we are? Would you get in trouble?"

Pogo shook his head. "Master Hargreeves cares little about what I do as long as there is little interference into his own work. I can arrange for an independent doctor to govern Master Klaus's recovery as well, one who is independent of his influence. That is the least I can do for you two."

Allison looked back at Klaus, searching his eyes for his thoughts. He inclined his head, winking at her. She sighed with a smile, turning back to Pogo and gently taking the phones and card from the ape. She handed the bright pink phone to Klaus, keeping the muted blue one for herself and put the card into her pocket. Then she stepped forward and hugged Pogo.

"One day, you'll be free from him too," she whispered, words hanging in the air like a prophecy. Pogo froze before hugging her back, his voice noticeably thick.

"You've both grown into fine adults," he said. "Thank you for allowing me to help you." He pulled away from Allison and pulled Klaus into a firm hug. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you children. Especially you, Master Klaus." Pogo looked at the blue shimmer that was standing protectively behind Klaus and smiled sadly. "And you as well, Master Ben."

He stepped away, turning into the shadows of the living room. "Goodbye, children."

-

They won't return for nearly eleven years, to a house that never felt like a home, to a man that was never a father. They wouldn't see their siblings in eleven years, themselves ballooning into stardom with gusto and love, never quite coming down. Eleven years of Grace tied to an empty house and Pogo tied to his experimenter.

Eleven years too short, and yet entirely too long.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking about writing a chapter fic sequel that would cover all the canon, would that be something y'all would be interested in? It would probably be multi-pov with more focus on Klaus and the prevention of the apocalypse.
> 
> i thought i was going to write more about their lives in LA, but i think that would actually work better (and be more fluid) in a multi-fic instead of a oneshot.
> 
> my tumblr is cuneiform-e  
> comments and kudos make life worth living <3


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